Red Samurai
by CheekyXO
Summary: Born to the lowest station in society Irako attempts to turn his life around. Upon entering Kogan-Ryuu Irako has a few foreign experiences. Kogan-Ryuu, the center of Fujikis world , starts to look different in his eyes. Irako stirs something deep within Fujiki, but is it something he's willing to acknowledge? Slight AU, Rated M for now. [G. Fujiki X S. Irako]
Chapter 1.

**I don't own or profit from Shigurui: Death Frenzy! ** Useful vocab is at the bottom of this chapter.

There are few things in this world that can make a man mad as hell! The worst of them all is humiliation. You've been insulted, your ego is bruised, and your pride is hurt. It always leaves you feeling foolish and diminished in some way or another. You're left with a sense of being powerless and disrespected. Your image no longer reflects what it used to. You return to the scene of the crime in your head, spinning it. Coming up with what ifs, and fighting self-doubt. He had always found it amusing, how people believe they deserve their shame, but they do not believe they deserve their humiliation. __ _ **If I had been more prepared and not missed my chance, I would have never fallen for that.**_ Fujikis sandals thumped heavily against the wood as he carried his wash bag. Turning the same scenario every which way in his thoughts.

Summer was coming, but it hadn't quite come yet. Fujiki walked down the narrow walkway, wash bag in hand. Over the past few weeks the bag had begun to overflow, due to his injuries. His right index and middle finger had been broken. It took a ridiculous amount of time to set them correctly, luckily it wasn't anything that would be permanent. Sitting the bag next to the wash basin he lowered the bucket into the well and used the rope to pull it back up. Adjusting his hold he circled the rope around his left arm and used the injured hand to maneuver the bucket to the ledge where it could be dumped with ease into the basin. It would be even more embarrassing to have a set back now, because he had to do his laundry of all things. His hand still occasionally throbbed though it had been weeks since then. He could still remember that bastard's smug red smirk.

The room was thick with anticipation inside the Kogan Dojo. Two talented men were about to face off against each other. One a mysterious challenger to the dojo and the other the stoic star pupil of the Kogan Dojo. Silence eddied across the room as the pair prepared. Gennosuke Fujiki wore his short hair pulled into a tail, with dark blue hakama, and a white keikogi. Fujiki stepped forward with his right foot, holding his sword with both hands. Eyes focused on the man across from him. Irako Seigon took a graceful stance. His left foot was directed towards Fujiki and his right was perpendicular. Body turned to the side presenting a smaller target to his opponent. He held his sword with his right hand, gripping the weapon tightly in his slanted upward fist.

Wearing a snug light pink women's kimono with a burgundy obi, Irako was hard to distinguish from a woman. His short sword adorned with an ornamental golden rope tassel was tucked into his obi. His long black hair was pulled into a tail towards the back of his head. He smiled, almost seductively. His eyes were reserved for seduction, large and enticing. This scent… It had to be a tactic that he'd used many times before on lesser men, distracting their minds with lustful tricks. And those red lips…

"Useless!" Fujiki raised his sword towards the right, chest level. "Your red lips…" Face more serious than a second ago, eyes set in determination, "… won't be any use to you in a duel!"

Irako's smirk stayed in place. As he turned his swords tip to floor. Palming the bottom of the pommel, with his left hand. The wooden sword slightly brushed against his Kimono.

Gonzaemon Ushimata, smiled proudly as he watched the fight from the side lines. _**Even the point of Fujikis blade seems to be glowing.**_ Ushimata, a hulk of a man, is the master of the Kogan-Ryuu school and Gennosuke's senior.

Irako snapped his sword into a horizontal position, on his right side, then ran towards Fujiki. Fujiki watched as he ran towards him, that smirk still lingering on his face, preparing his sword for a strike. Irako at the last minute switching it to the horizontal position.

Their swords clashed together, the impact from the clash surged through Fujikis forearms all the way to his shoulders as he pushed back. Irakos hair flopped against his back. Fujiki couldn't believe that he had thrust himself at him. _**No matter, he would be sorry he did soon**_. Irakos bangs came loose slightly, adding to his androgynous allure. His eyes squinted in determination.

"What a nerve!" Exclaimed Kondou Suzunosuke.

"He thrust himself at him!" Shouted Yamazaki Kurouemon.

"But, the Tsubazeriai … is Assistant Master Fujiki's specialty!" Okitsu Sanjuuro gawked.

Fujiki's eyes grew round as a cats.

Ushimatas moment of worry passed as he beheld the sight before him. _**Now is the right moment for the tsubazeri!**_

Wide eyed, sweat dripping down his face. Fujiki shifted his weight onto Irako's sword. _**I-I will crush you!**_ Brows knotted, with a look of a man half deranged, he pressed onward, but Irako didn't give by much. Only slightly leaning back under the pressure of the other swordsman. The others wore a look of shocked astonishment. Their feet slide slightly across the floor, each man fighting for dominance. The sound of the Cicadas could be heard over the creak of the floor boards.

The pupils gawked in amazement. Ushimata, a bull of a man, was starting to sweat. He missed his chance.

At that same moment, Irako Seigen's wet fingers twined themselves around Fujiki Gennosuke's fist. His soft touch made him feel strange, strong fingers locked onto his.

And then he was overwhelmed by a violent pain that felt as if someone had injected molten lead into his entire body… he was completely paralyzed. He was rapidly losing his strength. All outside sound was completely washed away. There was nothing but the sight of Irako… and pain.

Face full of sweat, baby hair sticking to the sides of his face, Irako smirked harder as Fujiki grimaced.

 _ **How can this be possible?!**_ Irako was only pressing on two spots of his right palm. _**How could this tiny motion cause, so much pain?**_

"What's going on?" Asked Okitsu Sanjuuro, gaunt cheeks, and steely eyes focused on the match.

"Hmm" hummed full faced Maruko Hikobee.

"Something is odd with Fujiki" said Yamazaki Kurouemon, eyes perpetually wide as saucers.

"That's … Yubi Garami..."stated, the scar faced Shihandai*, Munakata Shinpachirou. The pink puckered reminder ran diagonally, from the bottom right of his chin to the top left of his lip.

Word had it that at the Dojo of Master Yui Minbunosuke located in Enokicho in Edo's* Ushigome district, there was a swordsman named Irako who was capable of the Kosshi Jutsup*. However, no one could tell with absolute certainty if he and this man were the same person.

Apparently the Kosshi Jutsu was a combat technique that made use of the opponents' nervous system, causing excruciating pain and paralysis.

Ushimata fought to keep his smirk up. _**The Yubigarami'*! It's not looking good.**_

Forcing Fujiki's fingers back, and gripping them tightly, Irako slide his right heel behind Fujikis leg. Bringing him down with a loud dull thud to the wooden floor.

Fujiki's world was turned 180 degrees. The faces of his fellow students upside down. He felt and heard a sickening snap from his fingers. His fingers being made to bend on an unnatural position by practiced hands. The pain from the fall went unregistered compared to the pain in his fingers.

"That's enough" Ushimata said as he watched Fujikis defeat.

"It's not over yet. It's not over" Fujiki stated through gritted teeth as he began to get up.

"Is that so?" Irako asked clearly intrigued.

"This match is over", Ushimata declared.

"No, it has only begun", Fujiki stated once more through clenched teeth as painfully gripped his sword.

"If that is what you truly desire…" smirked Irako as he gazed down on Fujiki.

"I said this match is over!" Ushimata repeated himself putting a hand on Fujiki's shoulder.

Fujiki could only live with the small consolation that his senior and fellow disciple Ushimata had defeated Irako. He replayed this scene over and over in his head, a thousand times it seemed, since then.

Fujiki pushed the next pair of black hakama into the water. Dunking it until it was fully wet, scrubbing it against the washing board. His fingers gripped the fabric tightly, scrubbing roughly against the ridged board. This was turning out to be more grueling then he originally thought. He was already starting to break into a light sweat.

"May I take your place?" asked Mei from behind.

Mie was the only daughter of Iwamoto Kogan, the Martial Arts Master of the Kakegawa domain. Iwamoto Kogan was a Samurai with an annual stipend of 300 koku.*

"No, thank you. Doing this allows me to strengthen my fingers." Fujiki politely declined, chest pounding.

Turning around to face her, Fujiki realized he hadn't noticed her approaching at all. He'd been so caught up in the past again. He hid has injured hand behind his back, as he politely bowed to her.

The moment Fujiki laid his eyes upon Mei visions of delicate white clouds, swirling along on a breezy spring day, fleeted across his vision. A light seemed to encase her as she stood before him. Pure, beautiful, and enchanting, Mei patiently waited for a reply. In her youthfulness, Mei's chocolate eyes glittered radiantly in the sunlight. He clenched his fist, at the thought of how much he was a disgrace to himself- to her. Fujiki could not deny it was true. It was an unbearable realization, but it was true. Black colored his mood as bit his tongue as she continued on her way.

Pride gets a bad rap. Developing enough confidence in yourself to protect the things you love is crucial. You're the best at what you do, and not afraid to embrace that part of yourself. Pride can sometimes be the difference between becoming stronger or being left behind.

Fujiki scrubbed harder in anger and in embarrassment. The water splashing wildly around him. Soaking his knees and the floor boards in water. A slight bit of blood dripped from his mouth, down into the wash basin. Red droplets rippled his reflection, snapping him back from his sudden dark mood. Relaxing his jaw, aware now that he had bitten his tongue, Fujiki resumed his task.

 **(A/N: This chapter was based heavily on the manga and anime. I thought this chapter was essential to the story, so I wrote it this way. The next chapters will diverge a lot. )**

Down below are some definitions for the "*" marked words.

 **1.** **Shihandai** \- Assistant/Substitute Master.

 **2.** **Edo** \- The ancient name of Tokyo. The Ushigame district still exists today as part of the Shinjuku's eastern area.

 **3.** **Kosshi Jutsu** \- Lit. "The Technique of the Essence."

 **4.** **The Yubigarami** \- Lit. *caught Fingers."

 **5.** **Koku** \- A samurai usually received his yearly income from his daimyo master in the form of rice. They usually would sell/trade some of it then eat the rest. 300 koku is the equivalent of 75 ryo or gold pieces. This signifies that Iwamoto was a mid-ranking samurai

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